


Lady Luck

by Llama



Category: Deadlands (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/F, Horror Setting, Hucksters, Western Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama/pseuds/Llama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucy Malone knew she was going to hell one day. She just didn't know the demons were going to come looking for her on earth first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lady Luck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snowynight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowynight/gifts).



Mornin's after. No matter how many times I swear on my daddy's grave there'll never be another, the lure of good times and the night before always gets me in the end. Nowhere else you can go in these one horse towns but the saloon, that's the trouble. 

Half the trouble, anyways.

Now, I don't want you to go gettin' any wrong ideas. Jus' 'cause I've slept under a few tables in my time, that don't mean I'm a regular drunk. You gotta bend an elbow with all kindsa deadbeats and old soaks to get a game these days, but you gotta stay sharp 'cause you can bet your last bullet any of 'em will bilk you if you give 'em chance.

I don't give 'em chance. 

I can tell you every card I've ever played. Every dime I've ever won. Every sore loser I've ever had to draw on. But once the game's done and dusted, all bets are truly off. I don't even rightly know what happens, and I ain't sure I want to. Sure as hell don't wanna know how I ended up at the bottom of a canyon with two cracked ribs that one time, or what went on before I woke up under that preacher in Red Rock. 

Lucy Malone, you're goin' to hell. Just like your momma said you would. Right before she slammed the door in your face that last time.

It don't matter, not so long as I get my games. They don't call me 'Lucky' Lucy just because it's a cute nickname. I'm the best damn card player this side of-- Whatever. Who cares what the damn river's called. Still there whether I recall its name or not right now, and home's still someplace on the other side. 

Home never had a feather bed like this one, mind. Nor any company that smelled of spring flowers and fresh air, not a hint of rotgut or trail dust to be found.

“Feelin' rough, honey?” 

It'd been a while since anyone called me 'honey' without some vinegar to back it up. Iron too, more often than not. I didn't know my bed-mate's name, but if there was one thing it was easy to see it was that she wasn't armed with anythin' more than a smile.

Didn't see the harm in checkin' more thoroughly, mind. Could be she was hiding a blade behind those pearly teeth, a pistol strapped to her thigh under the sheet. Stranger things 'n that happen out in the world, I can tell you. 

She tasted sweeter than a summer day in Salina, and it'd been a whole lot o' years since I'd given that place a passin' thought. It wasn't Kansas sunshine keeping her from mornin' breath fit to strip the fine velvet paper from the walls though, or what cleared my head faster than a duckin' in a horse trough. No, that'd be the cards flickerin' lazy-like through her fingers, tumblin' into nothin' but dust when I reached for her hand, the fog liftin' from my skull so fast it damn near dragged my eyeballs out with it.

Christ alive-- I had to get outta there. 

“Where's the fire?” She stretched, cat-like and lazy on the soft mattress, watching me gather up my gear. Outside I could hear hooves, a muffled greeting-- the first business of the morning in a small town. If I was to yell for help, would anyone hear me? “I was havin' a good time there. Come on back to bed.”

“I know what you are.” And damn my loose lips, I hadn't meant to say that. I clenched my hand in a fist to try to stop it from shakin'; come on, girl, pull yourself together.

“I'm just like you,” she said, not taking her eyes off me.

I jammed my feet into my boots so hard I swear I heard the floorboards squeak. 

“I'm nothin' like you,” I told her. “You're a--”

“I'm a what, honey?” She rolled up to sit on the bed, but she kept her distance, just raised a hand in a soothing gesture. Like I was a spooked horse or somethin'. “A witch?”

Well, she said it. I wasn't gonna be so ill-mannered, not after takin' her hospitality. 

“You remember how we met?” She sounded amused, an' it got me riled, I can't deny it. “Do you even know my name?”

I gritted my teeth and buttoned up my shirt. I wasn't gonna play her games.

“Didn't think so.” She swung her legs out from the bed; it made her seem very young and innocent again for a moment. I knew better. “You can call me Mina.”

I wasn't introducin' myself. If she knew my name, then if I had any luck left at all, she'd forget it. Could be she already had. There'd been enough rocks in my head for a whole night's drinkin' this morning, and Christ knew the whole thing was a blank for me.

“I'm the woman you tried to kill last night,” she added then. Conversationally, as if it was of no more mind than a possible turn in the weather.

She had to be lyin', I knew that. I was no more a killer than I was a jackalope. 

“Or at least-- the manitou that possessed you last night tried to kill me.”

Mad. She was mad. 

“Y'see, honey,” she said, and her tone was soft again, “I could see it right away, tryin' and tryin' to get your attention.” She sighed. “And 's soon as you put down that last hand o' cards, there it was.“

I'd seen it before, _those_ gamblers, the ones with luck that ain't natural and something shifty about 'em. I'd seen them shriekin', screamin' about spirits. Demons, that's what my momma called 'em. Said folks who messed with such things deserved all they got. 

I wasn't one of those. Wasn't _gonna_ be one of those.

Was I?

“The longer you shut them out,” she said, “the more they'll be able to use you.” She reached for me, and I couldn't help but take a step towards her. “How often do you lose time, Lucy?”

How could she-- “Only when I 've been drinkin' too much,” I said, but I knew before she told me that we hadn't been drinkin' last night. Not nearly enough. “And... after I play. Ev'ry time.”

“They won't leave you alone.” She looked tired then. Made me wonder how old she might be under that pretty, pretty face. “Not unless you can give up the cards.”

I couldn't even think about doin' that. I had nothin' else. No other means of earnin' a livin', and no other way to pass the time that didn't leave me itchin' and restless for somethin' I couldn't put a name to if I tried.

“I can't--” I started, but she was already noddin', already pullin' me closer. Her hands were firm on my shoulders; she was stronger than she looked. 

“Then you need to learn how to use it. How to control it. It won't be easy.” She tipped up my chin. Her eyes were steady; there was no madness there. She was in control, not just of herself, but of me, even though there was no crackle of magic in the air. “But lucky for you, sweet girl, I happen to be an excellent teacher.”

“And if you're as good as I think you'll be,” she said, brushing my hair back tenderly. “Maybe I can find you a job back home. You'd like to go home, wouldn't you, Lucy?”

I was goin' to say yes, but I couldn't say a damn thing. Been a long time since I'd cried, even more since I'd done it enough to blur the world away like a rainstorm.

But I didn't need to say anythin'. Not to her. She smiled then, and kissed me, an' that kiss promised magic of a different kind. A kind that was easy enough to yield to.

I could worry about the rest of it later.


End file.
